


Blood on My Name

by kee_writestrashh



Category: Damnation (TV), Damnation - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kee_writestrashh/pseuds/kee_writestrashh
Summary: picking up right where season 1 left us





	Blood on My Name

**Author's Note:**

> song insp: https://youtu.be/MOSU_Pw7vO4

He stared and smeared the blood on his fingers, gripping the bible tight. Narrowing his eyes as he stepped down the darkened hall. Slow, tentative steps as he neared a dark shape on the floor. His heart pounding in his chest, swallowing thickly, hoping against hope it was not what he was thinking. Stomach clenching as he stooped down at the dark shape, knowing it was Amelia.

His mind reeling. Any excitement and fresh ideas he had were fading quickly as he hit his knees, dropping the bible beside him and brushing a strand of Amelia’s from her face, thumb smearing blood across her cheek. “Amelia...” He whispered hoarsely, unsure what to do. He had seen blood, bodies, and death many times. He had watched the woman he once loved murdered at the hands of his father. But he was even less prepared for this one. There was no one to blame this time. No one but  _himself_.

“Seth.” Amelia whispered, a grimace on her face, removing her hand from her blood soaked side.

Without hesitation Seth pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over the cloth over the wound, applying gentle pressure. “We have to get you to the doctor.” He said urgently, shifting on his knees to scoop his wife up.

“Where is she?” Amelia asked suddenly, opening her eyes wide and casting a wild look around the dark room.

“She?” Seth asked slowly, scrunching his brows in apparent confusion. “Who... who is  _she_?”   

“Connie.”

Seth stared at her for a few silent moments. Her words not making sense to him. “Amelia, you’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get you to the doctor.”

“It was her Seth! She... her husband... she’s a strike breaker.... Arkansas.” She said, mind working furiously to try and find words as well at keep the gathering blackness at bay.

“What are you saying?” He asked stupidly, standing up and glancing around the empty house. He took a few steps further, noticing a cold draft. The wind blowing in through a broken window. He took a few cautious steps forward, looking out the broken glass to find Connie, also covered in blood. He body rigid and unnatural.

“I shot her. She tried... her husband was... the strikebreaker in Marion. He killed... and then I killed... and now here...” Amelia said between pants, trying to muster her strength and push herself up.

Seth blinked, turning back to Amelia and crossing back to her. He said nothing else, scooping her up and hurrying her to the car. How he had got Amelia to town or into the doctor’s office would forever be beyond him. All he knew was that it was paramount that she make it through. Even if she was angry with him. Even if she would forever hate him.  _He loved her_. It was something he hadn’t realized until she put him on the spot after he confessed a majority of his past to her. How the hurt in her eyes felt like a twisting knife in an already stabbed chest.

“Preacher?” 

Seth looked up at the voice, seeing Preston sitting up in bed. He gave a weak smile to the man, “How are ya feeling, Preston?”

“I... fine, I guess? What are you doin’ here?” Preston said uncertainly. He never seemed to be confident in anything he said or thought.

“Amelia was hurt.” 

Seth said quietly, standing from his seat and pacing. He hadn’t seen or heard from the doctor since he had taken Amelia to a private backroom. It was causing him to go stir crazy.

“Who’d wanna hurt her? Hurtin’ a preacher’s wife...” Preston said with a small shake of his head glancing around the small recovery room. Martha must have forgotten to pull the curtains back around his bed before she left. Or maybe it was the doctor.

 _Everybody_. Seth thought to himself. Their secret was out of the bag now. Mostly. Within a day or two the whole town, and people beyond the town would know that Amelia was behind the underground papers. Too many people were involved. Too many people who weren’t likely to keep quiet. He stopped at a window and felt hot rage lick his boiling insides.

Creeley. 

He stormed from the doctor’s office building, shoes crunching the gravel and snow under his every footfall as he advanced on his brother’s back. It was Bessie who had spotted him first, and grabbed Creeley’s arm, as Seth reached for his gun; only to remember it was not there.

Creeley turned quickly, but Seth had already grabbed him by the front of his coat and slammed him against the closest car door. “Lightening doesn’t strike twice, huh?” He growled at Creeley. “Was she working with you? Was she sent here to kill us?”

Creeley gave Seth a bewildered look, pushing his brother back to get free from his grasp, pulling his own gun. “What are you talking about? Workin’ with who?”

“That Connie woman! She’s a strikebreaker too! Or was. Doesn’t matter anymore.” Seth snapped, nonplussed by Creeley’s gun.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t lie to me! You just couldn’t let me be happy, could you?! First Cynthia, and now Amelia!”

Creeley gave a blink, casting a sideways glance to Bessie. “Amelia’s dead?”

Seth dropped his shoulders and sighed, feeling defeated inside. “No. Not yet. The doctor is working on her now. But that’s not the point, is it? All of this is your fault.”

“No, Seth. It’s not my fault. This is on you, and the choices you’ve made. I tried to warn them both. I tried to warn you.” Creeley said, hand tightening on his gun.

Seth glared at his brother, fists balling at his sides. An ugly rage trying to surface. Just looking at the man before him made him want to shout and curse God himself for everything.

“I think it’s time you left here Seth. I’m leavin’ too.” Creeley nodded, re-holstering his gun and smoothing his jacket out as he spit at Seth’s feet. 

“You can’t scare me. I’m not leaving. And you’ll be back in jail if you--”

“Nope.” Creeley smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving a shrug. “I’m leaving. And don’t you try and follow me.”

“Me? Follow you? What makes you think you’re worth following,  _Squealey_?”

“I ain’t an innocent man either, Seth. But everything I’ve done, it was for me. For you. For Pa.” 

“You’ve done nothing. So if you’re gonna kill me, go on and get it on with, damnit!”

“Language  _preacher_.”

Seth took another step forward, but paused when he caught sight of the fear on Bessie’s face. She had remained stock still. Like an animal being cornered.

“Preacher Seth?” The doctor called from the doorway, drying his hands on a rag.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” Seth hissed at his bother, turning sharply on his heel and walking away.

“Likewise.” Creeley nodded, spitting again and turning toward Bessie. “Come on, we need to hurry and get out of here, before anyone else shows up.”

When Seth stepped back inside the building, he registered the shaking in his hands, the warmth of the building biting at his cold cheeks. “How is she?” He demanded of the doctor, following hot on his heels.

“She’s sleeping now. I think if we can get her through the night, her chances will be much better.” the doctor said slowly, leading Seth to the back room. He turned to Seth and fixed him with a hard look. “What happened to her?”

Seth peered around the doctor, watching Amelia breathe. Her face pale and sickly. Piles of ruined, bloodied rags on the table beside her next to a wash bin. The water inside, steaming slightly, pink in color now. 

“A strike breaker.” Seth finally managed to say, stepping around the doctor and taking a ginger seat on the edge of her bed. He took her hand in his, unsure of who had the colder hands at the moment. A lump sticking in his throat when he tried to swallow. He ignored the doctor, who bustled around, cleaning up the mess that was made. 

What if Amelia didn’t pull through? What was he to do then? No. No, she would be fine. She had to be. She was all he had anymore. His mind lingering on Connie. How had he not seen it as suspicious that she just happened to show up in town during the middle of all of this?

_‘Is he the bad man?’_

She was after  _him_. The thought made him feel nauseous. That woman had a bullet with his name on it, for two years now. Only for her to discover, Amelia had been the one to murder the strikebreaker. To avenge the death of her first husband. And now here was fate, playing her game.

He stared at the floor for what felt like hours. His back stiff and aching. His feet numb and cold. Mind unable to comprehend anything. Shaking sleep from his head every so often.

Until finally, Amelia tightened her hand around his. He snapped his eyes to hers. She still looked on the verge of death. But she managed to part her lips and lick them slightly.

“I might be wrong. But I think now is one of those times when you’re supposed to be praying, preacher.” She quipped, her voice hardly audible.

“I have been.” 

 

 

> _There's a reckonin' a-comin'_  
>  _And it burns beyond the grave_  
>  _Lead inside my belly_  
>  _'cause my soul has lost its way_  
>  _Oh, Lazarus_  
>  _How did your debts get paid?_  
>  _Oh, Lazarus_  
>  _Were you so afraid?_  
>  _When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you_  
>  _With the Hounds of Hell comin' after you_  
>  _I've got blood, I've got blood on my name_

**Author's Note:**

> Need something? Want something? Catch me on tumblr @kee-writestrashh


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